An Occasion
by marinoa
Summary: Little things in life are those that might have the biggest consequences. Like this little occasion, where Arthur wakes up covered by an unidentified jacket. AU.


_Author's note: _Hello, people! This is me presenting you a very short little story. I have been wanting to write something short and silly, but every time I have tried, it had somehow turned into something longer. But this, this I wrote today, very quickly, without planning anything ahead. I'm trying to collect myself to finish some other works I have begun, but meanwhile, have this little story. :)

**An Occasion**

The question was, who had left their jacket. There had been almost twenty people at Alfred's party, but by the time Arthur had asleep on his friend's sofa, half of the guests had probably gone already. But one of them had left something – a jacket to cover Arthur's sleep. It couldn't have been an accident – who on earth would forget their jacket? – and it certainly hadn't been Alfred, so it had to be one of Alfred's friends.

The problem was that Arthur knew hardly anyone of the people Alfred had invited.

"Whose is this?"

"Huh?"

Arthur held the unidentified jacket up in front of Alfred's face almost accusingly. "This. Whose is it?"

"Oh, that. Dunno. Probably Francis', think I saw him covering you with it."

"Right. Quite needlessly. Well, I suppose you will return it to him."

"The hell I will! Return it yourself."

"I don't even know him!"

"Well he didn't know you either and yet it's _you_ he leant his jacket to."

"I never asked him to. He is _your_ friend."

Alfred gave him an unimpressed look. "Really, Arthur? Don't be such a girl."

"I'm not, I'm just approaching this logically, which you clearly don't want to do."

"I don't have time to see Francis this week at all, our schedules don't match. I have to go to uni, and he hasn't any lectures today."

"Then how do you expect me to-"

"He's got a part-time job at this café not far from here, he'll be there today. Either you go and return the jacket to him, or." Alfred made a threatening pause and looked at Arthur through his glasses. "Or I will have to explain to my friends what a pussy my English friend Arthur is."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "You are such an idiot, Alfred."

"So are you. Now get the hell out of my flat and take that jacket to Francis."

So Arthur went. He wasn't even sure if he was connecting the name Francis with the correct face, but screw it. It didn't matter who the guy was. Most of Alfred's friends were jerks anyway.

It wasn't even noon yet, so the café was rather quiet when Arthur stepped in it. Three or four people were sitting at their respective tables, sipping their tea or coffee and reading the paper of the morning or just staring out of the window – idyllic.

A young lady behind the cashier smiled at Arthur. He walked up to her. "Hello," he said.

"Hello," she replied. "Can I help you?"

"Well, I... Is someone called Francis working here?"

The girl's face fell and she rolled her eyes in an exasperated manner. "Of course he is. I'll get him." She turned to go, but halted and turned back to Arthur. "Can you imagine how frustrating this is? Every time a nice-looking guy shows up here he's asking for _Francis_. What sense is there to be a girl _he_ gets all the guys anyway?" And she walked away.

Arthur didn't have time to dwell on her words before Francis walked in and fixed the Englishman with a measuring look. Arthur looked him over as well. The man had blond hair, blue eyes, stubble on the chin... ohhhh shit, _Francis_, of course Francis had to be _him_, now Arthur remembered.

"You didn't drool on it, I hope," was what Francis said when he finally opened his mouth.

"What?" was what Arthur oh-so-intelligently answered.

The Frenchman – because Francis _was_ a Frenchman, Arthur now recalled that – rolled his eyes. "My jacket. I hope you didn't drool on it."

Arthur remembered the plastic bag with a jacket in his hands and held it up for the Frenchman. "Have fun finding that out."

Francis snatched the bag of his hand.

One customer stood up from his chair and left the café.

Arthur got a feeling he should say something, so he did. "You shouldn't have left it in the first place."

"I know." Francis sighed, as if regretting some terrible mistake. "But I couldn't bear seeing your face any longer."

Arthur lifted one of his eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

"Your face," Francis kindly repeated, pointing at his own face to demonstrate his words. "I was so fed up with it that I had to cover it to be able to stay at Alfred's." Then he added as an afterthought, "Lucky you passed out."

Arthur, on the other hand, started to feel very stupid and very annoyed and not in the least surprised. "You sodding git," he complemented the Frenchman. "Then you were even more of a moron than I had first thought and truly did forget your jacket."

Francis crossed his arms over his chest. "Sorry to disappoint you, but no."

"No? So you left it on purpose then?" What the fuck was wrong with the Frenchman? Was he even listening to himself? There hadn't been any sense in his words the previous night when they had been introduced to one another and they had talked, argued and finally fought, until Alfred and Ivan had had to tear them off each other, and there wasn't any sense in his words now.

"Yes, I left it on purpose," Francis admitted.

"And is there any other reason for that except for you being an idiot?" Arthur inquired.

Francis quirk an eyebrow at him and took a moment to form his answer. "No, my reason is included in the 'being an idiot' part."

Such an answer very much confused Arthur and he forgot to say something insulting. Instead he almost smiled. (Almost!)

Francis used Arthur's puzzled silence to his own advantage and elaborated his previous statement. "I had to do something to make you find me later, because you were stupid enough to pass out before we could make a verbal agreement."

Now Arthur was completely baffled. Lucky for him, however, Francis was kind enough to explain. "I wanted to see if you are as insufferable when you are sober as when you are drunk. You know, for future reference. To see if I would like to ask you out for a cup of coffee or something."

_Oh_. Well. Shit. Arthur had probably given a very clear answer to that. Managing a cocky expression on his face, Arthur crossed his arms across his chest. "Well I am, am I not?" he said, and for the first time ever he was maybe a tiny bit sorry that he indeed was insufferable by nature.

"You are," Francis readily agreed. "So, how about that cup of something?"

It took Arthur a while to recover, but really, there was only one possible answer to such a question.

"It's on you."

X


End file.
